| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (People)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (Bitches)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (Animals)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah
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| Bumstickitty, bumstickitty, bum huh
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| I got that old rump-pum-pum-pum
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| I pump a junk up to get him a beat down
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| At least sound, I sound like these clowns, like he sound
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| My flow all over the place, .44 in the waist
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| I'm so-so innovate, if po-po went away, I roll over 'em like bacon
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| And call 'em a pig, won't you hop up off of my dick?
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| Words in the way, I get lost by him
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| I give you a JFK on the front lawn of MLK in the crossfire (Get down, nigga)
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| I have evolved into the lost diaries of the mob and the Rothschilds
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| I feel like God broke the vials and I am just layin' down inside 'em like caulk and tile
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| Q-Tip
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| Man, here we go
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| I said the beat left in the land of criminals
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| My era, my era, my era so original
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| Uh-uh, I survived it and that's a miracle
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| Ah, man
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| 'Cause I'm from Slaughterhouse (People), check yourself
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| Like Ice Cube said, "Before you wreck yourself" (Bitches)
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| Like Wu-Tang said, "You should protect yourself" (Animals)
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| I got 'em goin'
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (Get down, nigga)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah
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| Yo, snappin' necks plus I'm live, in effect
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| I'm in the Slick Rick eyepatch, but I got it from Hex
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| Rappers avoid eye contact, that's outta respect
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| For the garden of flesh, the ominous Indominus Rex
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| They be like, "You put the Thought on? Yikes"
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| If I told y'all once, I told y'all twice, that motherfucker is nice
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| I'm the king of the blood sport, all mice
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| I'm from an era, you had beef? |
| You prolly fist for it on sight
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| Get your ass beat on the basketball court on Spike
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| Then tell your wife to put your life support on ice
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| I'm the rap Pernell Whitaker, the honorable minister
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| Leavin' every amateur inoperable, I finished 'em
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| Makin' plaques outta they head like dead venison
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| Used to beat the battle to neck with damn militants
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| Spillin' over fabulous jams my man Dilla sent
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| Rap speak for me, I am the ventriloquist
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| I'm so stubborn, the government won't govern
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| That brother you spoke of, it just wasn't his dope, was it?
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| I'm coke buzzin', I never been low budget
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| The taste of your own medicine, here come a dose of it
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| I break free like Chesimard
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| Keep 'em guessin' hard while my broad say my bars just like ASMR
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| All my dogs is at the reservoir
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| Top five, I'm where the legends are (Keep goin')
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| Live at the edge of darkness and light
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| One phone call my and my youngins takin' flight
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| You a bark, bitch, and never bite, long kiss goodnight
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| I stay heated, my people in the place needed
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| If you ain't standin' up for yourself then stay seated
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| And they cheated, they lie like a marigold
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| Vespucci, I'm a miracle, I'm still super lyrical
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| Live from the Terrordome, loud like a megaphone
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| Thutmose the Third, seven inch, heaven bones
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| Man, here we go
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| I said the beat left in the land of criminals
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| My era, my era, my era so original
|
| Uh-uh, I survived it and that's a miracle
|
| Ah, man
|
| 'Cause I'm from Slaughterhouse, check yourself
|
| Like Ice Cube said, "Before you wreck yourself"
|
| Like Wu-Tang said, "You should protect yourself"
|
| I got 'em goin'
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (Get down, nigga)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah
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| Better hope an ambulance is en route
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| Papers are hand grenades soon as I pull the pin out
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| I understand and say Mandalay and Orlando and Colorado and Columbine
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| All combine into one, I don't walk a line, bitch, I run
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| 'Cause we don't got no time to waste, so come on Denaun
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| They call me five to nine, and thought duh-dun, duh-dun
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| Then like a shotgun I'm ready to cock it on 'em
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| Leave these pussies stretched out, like the Octo-Mom
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| Never had no trouble keepin' up with the times
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| I just adapt to the climate, I treat it like my Levi's
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| When they ain't buttoned up right, I adjust on the fly
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| Middle fingers, put 'em high, that's why they call it a bird
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| 'Cause you put it up in the sky
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| And I'm like a spider crawlin' up your spinal column
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| I'm climbin' all up the sides of the asylum wall
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| And dive in a pile of Tylenol, you like a vagina problem
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| To a diabolical gynecologist, tryna ball a fist I will |
| Fuck you just buy me, double timing the rhyming
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| I leave you stymied, that's why they still vilify me like Bill O'Reilly
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| I'ma show you what I mean when they call me the Harvey Weinstein of 2019
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| I'm a conniving, when I'm on the mic I'ma standout
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| Like a lime green wife beater with a knife out
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| I'm a sight to see, but you can see from the ring I'm wearing
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| Me and this game, we got married already
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| Had the prenup ready, fuck, all that's ever seen her belly
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| She barely was three months pregnant
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| Bitch had to give me a baby, we named it Machine Gun Kelly
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| Now here's to LL, Big L and Dell
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| K-Solo, Treach and G Rap
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| DJ Polo, Tony D, ODB, Moe Dee, Run-DMC
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| That OG EPMD, The O.C., Ice-T, Evil Dee
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| King Tut, BDP
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| YZ and Chi-Ali, Rakim and Eric B., they were like my therapy
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| From B-I-G and Paris B, times Oakland and C-M-P-R-T
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| N.W.A and Eazy-E, and D-R-E was like my GPS
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| Without him, I don't know where I'd be
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| Man, here we go
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| I said the beat left in the land of criminals
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| My era, my era, my era so original
|
| Uh-uh, I survived it and that's a miracle
|
| Ah, man
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| 'Cause I'm from Slaughterhouse, check yourself
|
| Like Ice Cube said, "Before you wreck yourself"
|
| Like Wu-Tang said, "You should protect yourself"
|
| I got 'em goin'
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah (Get down, nigga)
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| Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Yah Yah , by - Eminem. Song from the album Music To Be Murdered By - Side B, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп